


In a New Light, Part II: Poe

by valda



Series: In a New Light [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Manipulation, Guilt, M/M, Nobody Is Perfect or Blameless, Not Poe Dameron Comic Compliant, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Post-TLJ, Power Imbalance, Prisoner of War, Redemption, Survivor Guilt, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: There hasn't been much time for Poe Dameron to process all that's happened to him, nor all that he's done. The surprise entrance into his life of a man who was once a hated enemy (and secret fantasy) only complicates matters. Will his messy feelings for Armitage Hux make things better, or worse?





	In a New Light, Part II: Poe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedsardonic (sfvamp)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfvamp/gifts).



> You'll want to read In a New Light, Part I before reading this one.
> 
> The two major relationships in this story are gingerpilot and kylux. There may be background relationships, but I don't know yet.
> 
> Important note: This fic was not plotted out in advance. I can make no guarantees about how the story will end, including which relationship will "win out" (if any). The destination has already changed several times during the writing process. If you would rather wait to read until the story is done and completely tagged, I understand!

General Leia was hopeful.

The First Order was without leadership. Kylo Ren, self-proclaimed Supreme Leader, was in Rebellion custody thanks to his own hubris. And Armitage Hux, former First Order general and fleet commander, a man who’d had the ear of Snoke himself, had helped them take him.

Rey and Chewie were gathering allies, rescuing some and recruiting others. Their obliterated fleet was being reformed, ship by ship. Poe was...well, he was dealing with his mistake, finally. Leia hoped he wouldn’t take much longer; she needed him.

There was still much to do. But there was hope. And that hope was spreading, through the Rebellion and out into the galaxy.

~

Finn paced the cramped storage room as much as was possible, which was about two short strides. “What do we still need him for, if he’s not going to give us any more information?”

“We don’t know that he’s not,” Rose said, but she didn’t look happy.

“Poe won’t listen to me,” Finn said, frustrated. “We can’t trust Hux. We can’t let him run free around the base. What if he releases Kylo Ren?”

“I know,” Rose said.

“And Leia listens to Poe,” Finn continued.

“I know,” Rose said. “Maybe next time Rey’s back, we can get her to say something?”

Finn let out a long breath. “I don’t know if she’ll agree with us.”

“If enough of us do agree, though,” Rose said, “Leia will have to listen, won’t she?”

“Maybe.” Finn finally stopped pacing. He turned to Rose, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Until then, we’re just gonna have to watch him. Somebody’s got to.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

~

Poe came back to consciousness slowly. He’d been waking up like this for weeks now, fighting his way out of hazy, fitful sleep. It was hard to wake up ready to go when there wasn’t something urgent to do. Even knowing Kylo Ren was a prisoner here in this very base wasn’t keeping him sharp. The thought of the powerful, dangerous man stewing and plotting in his cell deep beneath the planetary surface just made Poe feel tired. If he felt anything else, it was just a vague undercurrent of dread, simmering beneath the clouded thoughts that kept him from true rest.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked blearily up at the mess of service pipes running amok over the ceiling of his room. There was nothing scheduled today but more drills. The new pilots Rey had found needed the edge taken off their newness. Nothing but practice would do that, Poe knew, but it felt like running in circles. He wanted to do something more important. Something big.

Groaning, Poe ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He always wanted to do something big, and he never thought about the consequences until it was too late. Thanks to him, the Rebellion had to be rebuilt from nearly nothing. Thanks to him, most of his friends were dead.

Drills were fine. Drills were good. Drills wouldn’t kill anyone.

Poe rolled out of his bunk and stumbled groggily to his small ’fresher. He splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth and relieved himself, and then he peeled out of yesterday’s t-shirt. Back in his room he tugged on another one, identical, and then stepped into his flight jumpsuit and zipped it up. Good enough.

He was securing his boots when his comlink went off. “Captain Dameron,” said C-3PO’s voice, “Mr. Hux has requested to see you.”

Poe’s breath caught. Suddenly he was completely awake.

Poe hadn’t seen Armitage since the mission to capture Kylo Ren. Armitage had locked himself in his room that day, and Poe didn’t think he’d come out at any point since.

It made sense. The mission had taken more of a toll on Armitage than anyone had expected. Leia had said to just let him work it out.

At first, Poe had called Armitage by comlink or holo every day. But Armitage barely said anything, and Poe had quickly run out of things to talk about. Eventually Poe stopped calling. He figured if Armitage wanted to talk to him, he’d call. Every day Poe had hoped he finally would, and every day he’d been disappointed. After weeks of this, he’d resigned himself to hearing nothing but silence from the man.

But Armitage wanted to see him now.

“Tell the squad I’ll be late today, 3PO,” he commed back.

~

Poe hesitated at Armitage’s door, running a hand back through his hair. He’d rushed straight over, not even stopping to make sure he was presentable. He couldn’t remember how he’d looked in the mirror. Raising an arm, Poe tentatively sniffed his armpit. Well, at least he didn’t stink.

He hit the call button. After a moment, Armitage’s door whooshed up into the ceiling...and there he was.

He looked great. His hair had been trimmed and he’d recently shaved; the crisp line of his clean-shaven jaw and the elegant bow of his pink lips set off his deep cheekbones, and the pale green of his eyes stood out against the clean expanse of smooth, pale skin. Poe had always marveled at Armitage’s features, even back when...well, back before Armitage was here with the rebellion. His face looked like it had been sculpted by a master artist. Like it couldn’t possibly be real.

But it was. It was real. If Poe wanted to, he could reach out and touch it.

Poe’s chest felt tight. He moved through the hatch without even being invited in and wrapped his arms around Armitage’s waist. “I’m glad you called,” he murmured against the standard jumpsuit Armitage was wearing. “I was worried about you.” Armitage felt so good in his arms. It was kind of like he’d had a lingering headache, like he’d had it for so long he’d forgotten what it was like not to have one, but now, suddenly, it was gone. It was a rush of relief, surprising in its intensity.

It took a moment for Poe to notice that Armitage had gone stiff, that he wasn’t returning the embrace. As soon as he did, Poe dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, chewing on his lip. “Was that okay?” he asked. “Sorry. I’m kind of a...huggy sort of guy.” Yet again he’d charged in without thinking. He wanted to fling himself into a sun.

Armitage closed and locked the hatch before answering. “It’s fine,” Armitage said, turning back toward Poe. His voice and expression both seemed distant.

Poe fought down a frown. Armitage’s tendency to claim things were “fine” when they clearly were not frustrated him to no end. But Poe had to remember that Armitage had grown up in the Order. He would have learned to accept anything that happened to him without complaint, even when he didn’t like it. “It’s not fine.” Poe wasn’t sure what he should say, what could possibly counteract years of brainwashing. “I shouldn’t...presume,” he tried. “I—”

Armitage stepped forward and wrapped his arms loosely around Poe’s shoulders, hiding his face against Poe’s neck. “It’s fine,” he said again.

Poe let out a long breath. Armitage’s body felt warm, perhaps even welcoming, and Armitage’s lips were pressed against his neck, and Poe could feel Armitage’s breath tickling across his skin. He put his arms back around Armitage’s waist. Ultimately, he should respect what Armitage told him. He shouldn’t push, and possibly retraumatize. He shouldn’t assume he knew what was best for Armitage better than the man himself.

Maybe he was letting this go too easily. But it felt so good to be held.

Armitage’s fingers curled against Poe’s back, fingertips pressing in, and suddenly Poe was thinking of touching Armitage in a different way. Each point of contact was charged, lighting up Poe’s skin like a live wire. He trembled a bit. Wordlessly, Armitage guided him toward the bed, pulling him down to sit. He gripped Poe’s shoulders briefly and then let go, sitting back enough to look at him. He was still so close, and their thighs were touching, and he was so pretty.

“It’s so good to see you,” Poe said fervently. “You’re looking...really good.”

“Am I?” Armitage asked, sounding pleased.

“I mean, you always look good,” Poe said, and meant it. “But you’re all cleaned up. Shaved and everything.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Armitage said, and he preened a bit, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin.

Poe laughed. On impulse, he took one of Armitage’s hands. “I feel underdressed,” he said, and then he brought Armitage’s knuckles to his lips.

Armitage’s face went gratifyingly pink. He scoffed, but he was fighting down a smile. “I’m not dressed any better than you are.”

“Yeah,” Poe acknowledged, not letting go of Armitage’s hand, “but I’ve got all this...scruff.”

Armitage leaned toward him a little. “Perhaps I like scruff.”

“Yeah?” Heart pounding, Poe leaned in too. At the last second he turned his head so that his cheek ran up against Armitage’s, tickling his stubble over Armitage’s freshly smooth skin. Armitage sucked in a breath. “Hmm,” Poe said, tipping his head, scratching his stubble upward. Armitage pressed his cheek into the friction and let out a soft sigh. “I guess you do.” Armitage snorted, just lightly, and then Poe dragged his cheek back down. When Armitage’s mouth opened on another gasp, Poe kissed him.

Armitage let out a surprised-sounding noise, but before Poe could second-guess himself, Armitage was rising from the bed just enough to swing a leg over his lap—and then Armitage was straddling him, squirming in his lap, without ever having broken the kiss.

Poe groaned and slid his arms back around Armitage’s waist. Armitage was so warm and solid and surprisingly soft to the touch. He held Armitage close, kissing him hungrily, breathlessly. It felt desperate in a completely different way from their first kiss, the one right before Armitage had risked his life for the Rebellion. That kiss had been a message. A plea. This one was an answer and a beginning, flooding Poe with a weird combination of relief and urgency.

Poe whined with want, sucking at Armitage’s lips. He was finally, finally touching Armitage, kissing him the way he wanted to. He wanted more; he wanted everything. Poe groped his way down to Armitage’s ass, grabbing it and squeezing it with both hands. He couldn’t believe how perfect it was. It didn’t seem like a guy as slim as Armitage would have such full, round cheeks. How had he never noticed before?

Meanwhile, Armitage had managed to get the front of Poe’s flight suit open, and now he was slipping his hands in under it to smooth across Poe’s stomach and around to his back. His fingertips scrabbled up Poe’s back to his shoulder blades as he sucked Poe’s lower lip into his mouth.

Poe squeezed Armitage’s ass harder, and Armitage let out a soft moan and released Poe’s lip. “I missed you,” Poe said against Armitage’s lips. He parted them with his tongue, desperate to be closer, deeper. Armitage opened for him, eyes slipping shut, and Poe kissed him thoroughly, sliding one finger lower, all the way down Armitage’s crack to press against his taint. Armitage jolted in his lap, letting out a squeak that was muffled by Poe’s mouth, then clutched higher up Poe’s back until he had grabbed Poe’s shoulders, using the hold as leverage to grind down hard against Poe’s hand. Poe broke the kiss to observe, “I guess you missed me too.”

“Shut up, Dameron,” Armitage panted, pulling back to shove at Poe’s chest.

Poe took the hint and fell back onto the bed, grinning. “Whatever you say.”

Some sort of expression flickered across Armitage’s face, but before Poe could identify it Armitage was rolling his hips forward, and all Poe could think about was how good the thick, solid line of Armitage’s cock felt against his own. Poe was harder than he could remember being in quite some time.

“Get all the way on the bed,” Armitage ordered, and Poe obeyed, levering himself further back with his elbows and shifting around to lie across the mattress. Armitage went with him, crawling over him, dropping back down to grind as soon as Poe was situated. Poe grabbed Armitage’s hips, helping him move, thrusting up to meet him.

The last time anything like this had happened, Poe remembered suddenly, this was about as far as they’d gotten. Poe had been on top then, holding Armitage down. And it had gone wrong—Armitage had remembered something that shook him to his core. Probably something about Kylo Ren.

Poe hoped Armitage wasn’t thinking about that right now. He really wished _he_ wasn’t thinking about that right now. He grunted, redoubling his efforts to thrust up against Armitage, to lose himself in the feeling...but the worry wouldn’t stop pricking at his mind. He had to know Armitage was okay.

“Armitage—”

Armitage leaned forward and clamped a hand over Poe’s mouth. “I told you to shut up,” he said. Poe couldn’t tell if he was being playful or not. “Don’t say anything.” Poe frowned behind Armitage’s palm, raising his eyebrows. “I mean it,” Armitage said. “The only thing you’re allowed to say is how much you’re enjoying this.” He paused. “You may also say ‘yes’.”

So Armitage wanted to be in control. And didn’t that make sense? He hadn’t been in control of much of anything for months. It would probably be good for him to be able to call the shots for a change.

Poe could do this for him. Poe could give him control.

Armitage removed his hand, and Poe drew a breath. “Yes,” he said, his heart beating wildly. He wondered if he was making a huge mistake. But then Armitage smiled that wicked smile of his, like Poe had just offered him the galaxy on a platter.

Poe’s cock twitched violently.

“Good,” Armitage said. He reached down to curl his hand around Poe’s cock through his flight suit, pressing down hard, squeezing, rolling it in a slow, torturously good massage.

Poe shuddered, his head falling back. He clutched Armitage’s hips, digging his thumbs into the soft skin above Armitage’s pelvic bone. He wanted this. He’d wanted this for years, since well before the destruction of the Hosnian system. He’d wanted it even after that, even after being tortured on Armitage’s ship under Armitage’s watch. It had always been a guilty fantasy, a secret dream: the beautiful enemy general taking what he wanted, using Poe for his own pleasure, quivering and gasping and coming, in Poe’s ass or with his cock in Poe’s mouth or while riding Poe hard into the mattress.

And now here he was.

Fuck it. Armitage could do whatever he wanted to him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Poe said, arching his back as Armitage ground his palm down against his cock. “ _Fuck_.”

Just then, “Captain Dameron,” C-3PO said, his tinny voice coming, distressingly, from the general direction of Poe’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Poe gasped again, for an entirely different reason. “Comlink,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily.

Armitage didn’t stop fondling him. “Must you answer it?”

“Captain Dameron!” 3PO said again.

Poe groaned as Armitage squeezed and twisted. Reluctant, he forced out, “Probably?”

Armitage let go, removing his hand from Poe’s dick entirely. The loss of contact made Poe feel like his X-wing had been shot down and he was hurtling out of the sky, spiralling uncontrolled toward a crash. He closed his eyes briefly, shook his head, sucked in a few breaths.

When he opened his eyes again, Armitage had unhooked the comlink from his belt and was holding it out toward him. “Thanks,” Poe half-groaned. He took the comlink, fumbled it, caught it before it fell.

“ _Captain Dameron_ —”

Poe jammed his thumb onto the call button. “Dameron here,” he said, his voice only a little shaky. “What is it?”

“Princess—er, General Organa wants to see you.”

“ _Now_?” Poe said without thinking.

“Well, er, yes.”

Poe could understand the confusion in 3PO’s voice, given that he’d never, in all the time he’d known Leia—his whole life, essentially—been reluctant to see her. “Her office?” he asked quickly.

“The hangar, sir,” 3PO said.

Something must be happening. Poe pushed up off the bed, grunting “On my way” into the comlink. He glanced at Armitage to say goodbye—and then he realized that Armitage was sprawled back on his elbows, having apparently fallen backwards. He was also scowling, which made him look unfairly hot, what with his sinfully curled lip and narrowed green eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. Poe wanted to climb on top of him, rut against him, suck a couple bruises into his neck.

Instead, “Sorry,” Poe said, offering him a hand. Armitage sneered, but he took it. Poe helped him sit back up, then kept hold of his hand, bringing it to his lips as he’d done earlier. “Really, I’m sorry,” he murmured against Armitage’s knuckles. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”

Armitage sniffed. “Duty does come first, I suppose,” he said.

“Yeah,” Poe said. He wrapped his free hand around the back of Armitage’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It ended up lasting a little too long; it was a struggle to pull away from Armitage’s soft, full lips. After several attempts, Poe finally managed it. “Don’t forget about me while I’m gone,” he breathed against Armitage’s mouth. It was a joke, a flirty comment, but his stomach flip-flopped after he said it.

“Unfortunately, you’re quite memorable,” Armitage said softly, sounding breathless. It looked like he was trying not to smile.

A strange sort of relief flooded through Poe. He forced himself to let go of Armitage and slid off the bed. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“You’d better,” Armitage said, crossing his arms and putting his nose in the air.

Poe had to turn around and march to the door to keep from kissing him again.

~

Leia was waiting for him next to the new T-70 that had been designated Black One. BB-8 was aboard; he let out a few cheerful beeps, dome spinning, as Poe approached.

“I know I told you to get your head out of your cockpit,” Leia said once Poe had come to a stop in front of her. “But there are times when it’s all right for you to be there. During your assigned duty rotation, for example.”

Poe cringed. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Your demotion shouldn’t have lasted this long, Poe,” Leia said. “I wanted to promote you back to at least major after the Battle of Crait. I thought you were ready, after that. But I can’t make _too_ many unilateral decisions, if I want this rebellion to function properly.”

Poe blinked, taking that in. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again, slowly.

Leia sighed. “You _mutinied_ , Poe. I know you never got to know Amilyn, but you should have respected her as part of my chain of command. She was…” Leia’s hard gaze never faltered, but she drew a breath and started again. “She was a good leader. A great leader. The kind of leader this rebellion needs.”

Poe couldn’t look at her anymore. He stared down at his boots, shame roiling in his gut.

“This isn’t about that,” Leia said sharply. “This is about you, shirking your duty when I need you to be a leader. To show the rest of our leadership that you’re ready to have your command back. Honestly, I’d hoped to have you on your way to colonel by now.”

“Colonel?” Poe looked up in surprise.

“Before the evacuation, it seemed clear that a promotion wasn’t far off for you.” Leia pressed her lips together. “Look, I believe in you. So did Amilyn. But we need the others to believe, too, or you won’t be able to lead them.”

Poe glanced away. Leia had given him more second chances than he could count at this point. Right now, he couldn’t figure why she put up with him at all. “You really want _me_ to lead?” he muttered.

“ _Poe_ ,” Leia said, and Poe felt her disapproval down to the marrow of his bones. “I need you to _shape up_. This isn’t about what I want. This is about using the resources I have at my disposal. Which aren’t many, as you well know.” She stared at him so intently he had to look at her again, even though he thought he might be sick. “You have more experience than most of the Rebellion at this point,” Leia said. “You’re an excellent pilot. You’re also a natural leader.” None of those statements felt like compliments. Her eyes were as hard as they’d been when she demoted him. When he’d gotten the entire bombing fleet killed. “You’re a resource,” Leia said. “Period. And I need to be able to use you.”

She was right. Of course, she was right. If he let her down now, everything she’d invested in him would go to waste. She’d have to start from scratch with someone else. And there simply wasn’t time for that. This was war.

Poe straightened to attention. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Leia raised her head, giving him an evaluating look. “Get your priorities straight, Captain,” she told him. “We don’t have time for you to screw around.” With those final words, she shouldered past him and stalked out of the hangar, not looking back.

Poe felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. She knew. She had to know. Why else would she use the words _screw around_? Guilt roiled in his stomach. Leia needed him, and all he’d been doing was feeling sorry for himself and...and trying to fuck Armitage Hux.

BB-8 let out a long series of beeps and whistles, a flurry of sympathy Poe didn’t really deserve. It ended with a question: did Poe want him to start preflight checks?

“Yeah,” Poe said, running a hand back through his hair. “Prime the engines. I’ll round up the squads. It’s time for some drills.” It was time for him to get his head back in the game.


End file.
